The Odd Couple, Hellmouth Style
by mr. monkeybottoms
Summary: What happens when a newly-souled vamp and a newly-not-engaged-to-a-demon carpenter are forced to be roomies again by a not-so-newly-not-dead Slayer? Takes place in season 7. Co-written with dr.dawn and sisabet. WIP CHAPTER 4 NOW UP!
1. Default Chapter

DISCLAIMERS: So, the other day I'm at work, serving tables, when I look up and see that stalker, Joss, sitting in my section. I sigh, and go over, asking him what I can get him. "Can I have anything on the menu?" he asks coyly. I nod. Joss drops the menu on the floor and says, "Can you stand on this?" I roll my eyes and walk away, ignoring his shouts of, "Buffy may have gone downhill, but it's still mine! Mine!!!" Loser.

THANKS: Hey. Thanks for reading. 

THE STORY: Remember that episode where Spike was all laying on the cross and getting crispy? And then the next episode where Buffy brings Spike to stay with Xander? Well, this is a conversation that happens after she leaves. Poor Souly Spike.

**********************************

"Now...go to your closet."

Buffy turned away from Spike and vanished out the door without a backwards glance, leaving him alone with Xander. Alone with the guy who really, really disliked him. Wonderful. Thanks a bunch, Slayer. 

The two stared at each other silently, not moving.

"I can't believe this is happening again." Xander said finally, disgusted. "Why do I have to baby-sit the crazy guy?"

Spike shrugged. 

"Here." Xander walked over to the linen closet. Pulling out a ragged, well-worn towel he twirled it at Spike. "This is yours. You may use this towel and this towel only. Anything else is hands-off. Got it?" 

Spike glanced at the rag and stayed silent. 

Xander nodded and pointed to the fluffy towels that Anya had picked out for him. "That's right. These are for me only."

"Like I'd want to touch the love-towels anyways," Spike said under his breath. Xander shot him a look but didn't say anything, simply watching as Spike wandered into his new room, giving it a once over. "Hmm. Small."

"It's better than the basement," Xander said, behind him. "Unless you want to go back to the place with the crazy people and dank mildew-y walls. Fine by me."

"Which basement are you talking about? Your old house or the school?" Spike muttered, barely having the gumption to insult.

"Leave my parents out of this." Xander pointed to the door. "And by all means, feel free to use that at any time. It operates like so..." He went over and swung it open with a flourish, hand motioning in a swoop. 

Spike didn't say anything, just sent him another look and turned back to his tiny, cramped room.

"What?" Xander frowned and peered in over his shoulder. "It's got a bed. And a window. Kinda." He watched as Spike pushed the curtain aside to expose the lovely view of the apartment parking lot, carefully avoiding the sunlight that streamed in.

"Very nice." Spike let the curtain drop back into place, cutting of the light. Great. A southern exposure. "The depression is lifting even as I speak."

"Ooooh, soul guy feels sad. Remind me why I should care," Xander said, throwing his arms wide. "Look. I have to go to work, alright? So, don't touch anything. Or do anything. Or sniff anything. Or steal anything. Or use anything. Or eat anything. You know what? Just don't anything."

Spike flopped down on the small bed and threw an arm over his eyes, blatantly ignoring Xander until he finally left the doorway. Spike was feeling rather sorry for himself. No, wait. Not supposed to feel sorry for yourself. Not for yourself, but for the people, just for all the horrid, terrible killings and maiming he'd performed on thousands of hapless victims. Never to forget the victims. Never to forget or be happy. Only death and regret and misery for years and years. Death and misery and damned spirits yammering at you for days on end till you don't know who's what anymore.

It was worse than Harm's constant prattle.

God, was this how Angel _lived?_ Spike pulled his arm away and frowned. No, at least Angel had a posh place to squat out the remaining years of his redemption. Ole Spike, on the other hand, had _this_ to look forward to. Plus, as far as he knew, Angel wasn't crazy, just stupid. Getting his soul had made him dumb. Spike getting his soul had made him insane. But only for a little while. And granted it probably wasn't the soul so much as the excessive evil thing living under his previous abode. 

The slam of the door signaled Xander's departure and Spike sat up hopefully. Now that he had the place to himself maybe he'd grab a snack and see what was on the telly, like any other 'newly-souled-kinda-crazy-but-feeling-better-now-that-he-was-out-of-Haunted Basement Land' kinda guy would. Going into the kitchen, he was startled to find Xander there, leaning against the fridge like a harpy wife waiting for her husband to even _try_ to sneak a snack.

"I knew you'd come and raid my fridge." Xander looked smug, arms and ankles crossed as he leaned. "Still a liar, even with a so-called soul."

Spike tilted his head back slightly and sighed at the headache that was his life. "And what have I lied about, Harris? Do tell, I'm all ears."

Xander stood up straight, eyes narrowed. "Loving Buffy," he said, voice low as if saying the words were a crime. "Biggest lie of them all."

"You think I lied about that? I went and got my soul for her, for God's sake. What else would I have to do to prove it?" Spike stepped closer, angry now. Angry, and it felt good. It felt good to feel something besides sadness and agony and confusion and terror. He embraced the anger and glowered more.

Xander looked him up and down, face almost a sneer now. "Not _raping_ her would have proved it."

Spike felt the anger leave with a thump. Anger packed it's bags and caught the first plane back to Guilt-land, drawers left hanging open with nary a sock hanging out, leaving the room open for Sorrow and Regret to move back in...and they were a bitch of a couple to landlord to. Damn.

"Nothing to say?" Xander peered closer, taking in the drawn look around Spike's mouth, the downcast eyes. "Come on Spike, tell me again how you 'love' Buffy."

"...love her..." Spike muttered weakly, trying to regroup. 

"What?" Xander asked, moving in for the kill.

Spike met his eyes. "She told you I raped her?" he asked, feeling sick. God, that night, that night that changed him forever. Did she tell people about it, about how he'd forced himself on her, ripped at her robe, bruised her skin, babbled his love for her in a moment of twisted, desperation? How he'd made her cry? He made her _cry_, dammit. Sure, he'd seen her cry before, that night, the first night he'd tried to kiss her. Kiss her and then kill her. He'd seen her cry over her Mum, over Dawn, over Angel...hell even over Riley. But he...he'd made her _beg _and he'd made her _crawl_. His stomach turned.

Xander stared back, face cold. "She said you tried," he relented, finally. "I saw the mark you left on her..." he trailed off, finding it hard to say it suddenly. "...thigh."

Spike swallowed, Adam's apple working nervously. Xander took a deep breath and continued.

"It was big and purple and black, about the size of a man's knee. No, not a man. An animal. It was something an animal would do to a woman, and it wasn't what someone does when they're in love." 

What to say to that? Spike looked away, the shame washing down on him again, flooding his senses, making him unsteady. The soul was making him _feel_ it, feel it in a way he'd never felt it as a normal vampire. It hurt.

"But Buffy beat you off, beat you off till you couldn't hurt her anymore," Xander finished, looking sad now too. "And now the two of you are finished. And you're living with me. Again."

Spike looked up, frowning. "I..." he paused suddenly, wanting to explain, wanting to say he'd stopped after she'd thrown him off, stopped when he would have finished the job when he wasn't chipped, when he didn't have her so deeply in his blood, in his brain. But the words were cheap What did it matter if he hadn't actually done it? It was the same, practically. He'd still betrayed her, ruined the last year he'd spent with her. "I didn't rape her. I hurt her and I tried to hurt her more. But I didn't..." He stopped again. What was the point? Xander was staring knives at him, and really, it was no more than he deserved for what he did. 

It was silent for a few minutes, Xander glaring and Spike looking away, hiding his face.

"I'm going to work now, only this time for real," Xander said, finally. He brushed past Spike, making him cringe a bit at the contact, skin still sore from the cross. Draping himself on it was a really crazy thing to do, all things considered. Probably shouldn't try that again. 

Xander walked towards the door and turned. Spike still stood there, looking for all the world like his dog had just died. "I'll bring you some blood when I'm done work," he relented, feeling slightly less angry.

Spike perked up a bit. "And some raspberry J-ello?"

"Oh god..." Xander looked ill. "Please tell me you aren't going to mix the two together."

"All right...I won't mix them together." 

Xander blinked. "You're just saying that, aren't you?"

"Yes."

Sigh. "Fine, I'll bring you some J-ello."

Spike tilted his head. "Raspberry?" he reminded as Xander walked out the door. 

Xander popped his head back, frowning. "If you don't shut up I'm going to stake you, soul or no soul," he threatened mildly. Spike's face fell and he sighed again, loudly. "Fine. Raspberry J-ello for the big baby. Yes. Okay?"

The door slammed and Spike turned back to the fridge, a rueful grin on his face, rubbing at the ache in his belly. 


	2. Chapter two

DISCLAIMER: I was talking to my lawyer about the papers Joss served me. "Why would he serve me with a pre-nuptial? I love him so!" I cried, wailing on his shoulder. "We are soul mates! He's the man I love! My champion! He has a soul, and I know he can be a good man, even if he _is_ a fool for love!" The lawyer pulled away from my snotty, tearful embrace and frowned. "Yeah. Except these are restraining orders," he explained, pointing to the papers. "You have to stay at least one hundred yards away from him." I blinked. "Joss and I are getting married in Paris." I said, slowly. The lawyer sighed.

THANKS: Big thanks to you guys, cause you are really hot and so damn cool. Also, thanks to sisabet and dr. dawn for having dreams of Spander running through their warped little minds.

LAST TIME: Spike got a soul and felt a little nutbar from it...and the demons in the school basement. Buffy dropped Spike off at Xander's for a sleepover party. A sleepover party till Spike wasn't crazy anymore. Xander confronted Spike about his relationship with Buffy. Spike felt glum. Xander felt slightly less mad at Spike and promised to bring him J-ello. Spike still felt bad, but also slightly happy, cause raspberry J-ello is good. It solves all of life's big messes. Like Bounty. The Quicker Picker Upper. 

******************************

"Oh holy Jeebus, what are you doing?"

Spike turned around to find Xander standing in the doorway of his room, mouth hanging open in shock. Oh great. Just what he needed. "What's it look like I'm doing?"

Xander leaned against the doorframe and rubbed his jaw mock-thoughtfully. "Well, it looks like you're turning in circles like a dog chasing his tail. I was just wondering why. Oh, and I was also wondering what was up with the new-and interesting-look."

Spike glared. "I wasn't turning in circles. Just couldn't see how these pants fit is all. Seem to have a certain lack of reflection, soul or not." He fruitlessly tried to peer over his shoulder again. "I can't tell how these pants look. Don't want to be too much the ponce you know."

"You'rewearingleatherpants." It came out in a strangled, giggly mess, making Spike glare some more. "Spike. In leather pants. Why?"

"My jeans were filthy. So I went through my bag-"

Xander shook his head. "You have a _bag_?"

Spike ignored him. "And I found these old things. Never actually wore them though." He peeked over his shoulder again, turning slightly as he did. 

"Wait. You have a bag?" Xander repeated, getting another look from Spike. "What? I never saw a bag. Vampires have sleepover bags? Backpacks? Purses?"

"It's not a _purse_." Spike stopped his spinning and pointed at Xander, who was still chuckling. "In fact, the only male I ever saw carrying what could only be described as a purse was _you_, Harris. High school ring a bell to you?"

Xander stopped laughing. "It wasn't a purse! It was an oversized pleather carrying ensemble, so shut up."

Spike nodded mockingly and grabbed a t-shirt from his bed. "Right," he droned, pulling it over his head.

"Yes, that's right! I'm all man!" Xander watched the top slide down his chest, blinking when Spike's head popped out of the neckline, eyes meeting his. "Hey...isn't that my shirt?"

Spike shrugged.

"Are you wearing my clothes now?" he demanded, annoyed at the vampire roommate from hell. "It isn't bad enough that you eat all my food, use all the wrong towels, watch TV all day and pace all night while I'm trying to sleep...but now you're wearing my clothes."

"Well, I don't have anything else. The only thing in the bag were these nancypants, and they're bad enough. I just figured you'd prefer me covered." Spike watched Xander's eyes drift over him and felt a little of the old teasing surface. "Unless you prefer me half-dressed..." His voice lowered. "Or maybe not dressed at all."

The pun fell more truthful than sarcastic when it left his mouth, judging from Xander's reaction of wide eyes and frantic glancing-asides. Spike's own eyes narrowed as he watched him stammer and splutter vague denials about never even _thinking_ about Spike that way, and ewwww, shut up you pervert. The boy's body language was just screaming that he was lying. Hmmm. Go figure. Harris was interested. And embarrassed.

"Relax Harris. Just kidding around," he said. Taking a few steps towards the door, he was mortified to hear his pants make a slight squeaking noise. He looked down at them, smoothing nervously. This outfit was worse that the time he'd been forced to wear Harris' schoolboy short pants and Hawaiian shirts when he'd shrunk the laundry. Horrors, that's what that was. 

Xander grinned. This was better than the hang-dog expression he'd worn since the day he'd arrived. Xander had thought he'd die of boredom before Spike got his spirit back. "Feeling a little loud?" he asked, enjoying turning the tables back to the annoyed-looking vampire. 

Spike raised his eyebrows and looked pointedly at the outfit Xander was sporting. 

"What?" Xander glanced at the dirty jeans and plaid shirt he wore. "I just got back from work. It's not tacky!"

"Okay." Spike shrugged and walked out into the living room, pants swooshing each time he took a step. "And if I ever need a tree chopped down I'll know who to call."

"Shut up." Xander followed him. "This, coming from the guy with the leather pants."

Spike paused. "Hey..." he looked over his shoulder once again, turning in a small circle, and finally gave up. "These pants here...they don't make my bum look..." He swallowed painfully, but spit it out. "Flat?"

Xander choked. "No."

Spike relaxed and sat down on the couch.

"They make your butt look like a bubble. Bubble Butt Spike."

Spike shot back up, furious. "My butt is not bubble-shaped! I'm in perfect health-being dead not included-and my butt is hard as a rock! You could bounce pennies off it! Here...where's a penny?" He looked around franticly.

Xander held his hands up defensively. "Kidding, geeze, calm down." he laughed, ducking as Spike flicked the penny he'd fished from one of Anya's leftover candy dishes at him. Spike actually shot him a quick grin back, surprising him to no end. "I'm gonna grab a beer out of the fridge. Want one?"

"That watered down hog piss?" Spike scoffed. He paused at the look on Xander's face. "Yeah. Sure, why not. I'd love an American 'beer'" Spike caught the can Xander tossed him and popped it, trying not to grimace too much as he drank. Ugh. Terrible stuff. 

They sat quietly, contemplating.

"You know who has the bubble-butt?" Spike said suddenly, breaking the silence. Xander looked up at him and nodded.

"Angel," they chimed together.

Silence again.

"Let's pretend we never had this conversation." Xander looked pained at the thought of Angel and his butt. 

"Gladly," Spike muttered, downing the last of his beer. The less thoughts of that pathetic souled vamp the bett-. Oh wait, he had a soul now too. Spike groaned inwardly, imagining the two of them running through the streets of L.A., saving puppies from early deaths and old ladies of being robbed of their pensions. Saving with matching leather pants and sad-eyed expressions. Oh god.

Xander looked at his can of Bud, studying the moisture on the outside, daydreaming. It was Friday night. Another Friday night of boredom. Anya and he used to go out for dinner on Friday nights, usually Mexican. They'd go out and laugh and dance, and Anya would wear a sexy little number and be annoyed that her food was cold, then tell him that in her old days she would have cursed a man for that, make him sauté his own eyeballs and serve them to hungry dogs in the ally. And he'd look scared for a moment, vowing that he'd never be dumb enough to break her heart, in any way. Oh...wait. Dammit.

"Do you want to go out for dinner?" Xander blurted.

"God yes." Spike stood up. "Where to? And, uh, your treat, right?"

Xander shrugged. "Hmmm, big surprise. Yeah sure, my treat. How's Mexican sound?"

Spike frowned a bit and looked pained.

"What? Don't like Mexican?"

"No....it's not that..." Spike thought about how much Dru had loved eating Mexicans. Said they were delicious. 'A touch of spice,' she'd murmur, licking her lips with a naughty giggle. 'Have some, Spike.' And he'd laugh and bite down, drinking...

His stomach turned. 

"If you don't want to go..." Xander's face fell. Spike noticed and shook his head. Anything was better than another moment in this apartment. He had to get out. Besides, what was he going to say? He was sad because he used to _eat_ Mexicans?

"No no, Mexican is fine. Let's go."

*************************************

Xander looked over the menu at the vampire across from him. Spike was studying the choices carefully, face serious. It was rare that his face _wasn't_ serious, these days. The few smiles he'd gotten earlier were few and far between now. Then again...it wasn't like Spike was Mr. Smiley before the soul. But he did have that snarky sarcastic humor that Xander had secretly liked. He needed more of that right now. He needed more of anything right now.

"Holy bloody..." Spike looked up, face full of wonderment.

"What?" Xander looked around, fully expecting to see a glowing deity or the face of Jesus in a tortilla.

"They have a dish called Deep Fried Ice-cream."

Xander blinked. "Yeah? And?"

Spike looked at him like he was a crazy person. "And? And?? And that's damn brilliant, that's what that is." He pointed at the menu in obvious excitement now, finger stabbing the laminated paper roughly. "Deep. Fried. Ice. Cream. They _deep fry it. _It's cold and they stick it in a fryer of hot oil!" He trailed off, imagining the wonderful possibilities.

"Never had it before, I assume," Xander said. "It's really the only dessert they hav-" He broke off at the sight of Spike flagging down their waitress. "What are you doing?"

The waitress came over, obviously annoyed at being rudely motioned over from across the room. As she got closer, however, Xander saw how her mouth went from pinched with anger to slack at the sight of the blonde at her table. Humph. Figures.

"Deep fried ice-cream, luv." Spike drawled, making the middle-aged woman practically swoon right there. "Two orders."

"Wait-I haven't even ordered my main course. I don't want dessert yet-"

Spike cut him off. "Those are both for me."

The waitress tore her eyes off of Spike's t-shirted chest (_MY t-shirt_ Xander thought, annoyed) and looked over at the other person at the table. "Sir?" she asked impatiently, pencil poised over her notepad.

Xander looked at his menu, flustered. "Uh...well. I'm not sure. How's the lobster today?" he joked, trying to buy more time.

The waitress frowned. "Sir, there is no lobster on the menu. This is _Moxico, _not _Red Lobster_."

"Yeah..." Xander let that one go. Humorless old fishwife. 

"Our dinner special is 'Twenty Tacos for Twenty Million Pesos' That's ten dollars," she added helpfully. Xander looked back up in relief at the nice gesture and found she was staring at Spike again, a goofy smile on her face. "Would you be having some tonight sir? After your dessert?"

"Twenty tacos?" Spike looked alarmed. "That's a lot of food." He looked up to find Xander staring at him, a challenge in his eyes. "What?"

"I call a Taco Eating Contest." Xander said slowly, a nasty glint in his eyes. Spike stared at him, refusing to look away.

"You're on," he said finally, voice menacing. "And I'll still have the ice cream. _And, _I'll still kick your sad ass, Harris."

"You're going down," Xander said, almost rubbing his hands in glee as the waitress gathered their menus and huffed off, annoyed at being ignored in the testosterone-charged moment.

"Harris..." Spike cocked an eyebrow. "Such naughty talk. And me, a virgin."

"What?" Xander frowned, totally missing the innuendo he'd made. "Huh?"

Spike sighed. "Never mind."

"I'm gonna go water the daisies." Xander stood up. "I forgot to order a drink. When the waitress comes back to offer you a hand-job on the house, order me a Bud."

"Ha bloody ha Harris. Very funny." 

As he stood at the urinal, Xander contemplated his life. Single. Good job. Long-time friends. An ex that was an ex-vengeance demon. Undead roommate. He shook his head and zipped up. Life wasn't too bad. It was weird, but still okay.

He was still half-smiling to himself as he walked up to the table. The smile froze. "What the hell...?"

Spike looked at him, innocent. 

"What is this...monstrosity?" Xander sat down in front of the giant fishbowl glass with the twisty straw.

"The waitress told me about tonight's special drink. Once she was done jacking me off, that is." Spike pushed it closer to Xander encouragingly. "It's called 'Girl Drink Drunk'. Felt it described you to a tee."

Xander took a sip. "It's a raspberry Margarita," he said, unimpressed. 

"But it's _Moxico-sized_," Spike informed him.

"Uh huh. And was your orgasm _Moxico-sized?_" Xander waved his straw sarcastically.

"Jealous?" Spike asked, voice low. Xander opened his mouth and paused, not knowing how to react.

"Shut up Spike," he said, trying for nonchalant. Why is it he could always do that? He took another drink and almost did a spit-take as the waitress suddenly appeared, dropping a full bottle of tequila and two shot glasses in front of Spike. "What the hell?"

Spike winked at the waitress and slipped a twenty down her top, making her preen like a stripper preens to a fifty. "Thanks sweetheart," he said, giving her a familiar pat on the rump as she left. Xander was speechless. For two seconds.

"You are even crazier than Basement Spike if you think I'm going to drink that with you," he spluttered, watching Spike pour two healthy shots and push one over to him. "Xander and tequila don't mix. I had a bad experience on a road trip once. Found myself shoeless and pantless outside the alley where I washed dishes...and...and...where did you get that twenty, by the way?"

"Loan me a twenty, would ya?" Spike pushed the shot glass closer. "And drink up you massive fairy."

"Hey! No one calls Xander Harris a fairy, except for the entire Sunnydale High football team, that is." Xander picked up his shot and tossed it back. 

Spike nodded his approval. "See? That wasn't so bad, now was it?"

Xander wiped his teary eyes. "Yes. I see the restaurant doesn't scrimp on their alcohol. I'm sure they found the best bottle a whole two dollars could get them."

"And you only paid twenty dollars for it." Spike poured again. 

*************************************

"So I said to the vamp, 'No, I'm _not _Billy Idol. E's a dammed poofy poofter, that's what 'e is, you bloody, bleedin' idiot.' An' then I broke 'is neck, good an' proper-like."

Spike focused blearily on the man across the table from him. "I do _not_ talk like that. Liar." He reached for his shot glass and promptly knocked it onto the floor. "Oh oh. Need more tiny glasses. And take off that ridiculous hat."

"What hat?" Xander reached up and touched his head. "Ah yes. _That_ hat. And it's called a 'sombrero'. I took Spanish in high school. Plus, I look cool in this hat. Plus, you also have one on."

Spike blinked slowly. "Damn soul. It's making me go out for dinner with a carpenter and wear bright pink hats. I think it makes me get pissed faster too. I used to be a vamp who could hold his drink."

"Maybe..." Xander searched for his giant glass, finally finding it behind one of the empty bottles of tequila"...maybe it's the soul...or...maybe you are just getting old. What are you, like, three hundred years old now?" He pulled his fishbowl forward and took a healthy sip, mesmerized by the liquid streaming upward in loops and curls from his bendy straw. "Heh. It's like a roller coaster of tasty drink."

Spike suddenly figured out that Xander had implied he was old, and sat up straight, offended. Unfortunately, the act of straightening made him lose his balance in his chair and he ended up over-adjusting, sliding off into an untidy heap beside his table. "Bloody....hell."

"See?" Xander peeked over at him. "You _do_ talk like that." His hat slid forward over his eyes.

"You shut it. You _and_ your identical twin right there. That's right, I'm talking to _you_. Do you know who I am??" Spike got up and pointed unsteadily to Xander's right shoulder.

"Who are you talking to?" Xander asked, pushing his hat back up. 

"That wanker that looks just like you, that's who. And I'm not old! Why, your ex was a thousand years old! That's almost..." Spike frowned and tried to subtract. Coming up empty, he grabbed at the tequila bottle instead and drank heavily. 

Anya. Xander shook his head. What had happened with the two of them? Here he was, drunk as a skunk in the moonshine shed with an equally smashed vampire who was wearing leather pants and a fuchsia Mexican hat that they'd stolen from the hallway to the men's room. It was Friday night and he was supposed to be out for dinner with Anya, and afterwards they'd play an nice game of 'How the Secretary Got Her Raise', and Anya would be all 'Oh sir! I don't know how I'll ever make my mortgage payment this month!' and he'd grin and tell her he had some extra work she could do to earn it and...

"What the hell are you rambling on about, Harris?" Spike waved the half-empty bottle at him and motioned to the door. "C'mon. Let's get out of this hole."

They wove a path to the door and were just outside when Spike suddenly froze. "We forgot to pay the bill!"

"Of course...the bill..." Xander reached for his wallet and came up empty. "Spike, pay the man."

"Certainly." Spike pulled Xander's wallet from the back of his pants and stumbled back inside. 

Xander looked up at the stars and smiled. Such a nice night. So peaceful. So spinny and wavy. He grinned, watching the stars move, faster and faster, turning and turning and...oh god.

Spike came back out, distressed. "I can't believe we almost left before settling the tab. That nice waitress would have had to pay for it out of her hard-earned tips you know. " He paused and looked around. "Xander?"

"Present." 

Spike went over to the side of the parking lot where Xander was sprawled in a messy pile. "Ha. I knew you would lose the Taco Challenge."

"Ugh. As god as my witness, I'll never eat a taco again." Xander held his stomach and groaned. "And that waitress wasn't nice at all. And since when do you care about a dine and dash?"

"What? Are you saying I've gone soft? That the soul has made me all emotional? Or are you trying to say I ate Mexicans? Because I. Did. Not." Spike hauled Xander up. "Can you walk?"

"Uh huh,' Xander said, leaning on him heavily. "I can walk. I just need some help to do this 'walk' that you speak of."

"Here." Spike held the bottle of tequila up to Xander's mouth. "Rinse."

"Ewww." Xander tried to push it away.

"Rinse." Spike repeated. "You smell like a wino."

Xander took a mouthful and swished, spitting it out as fast as he could. "There. Happy now?" he asked. "And winos smell like wine."

"Winos smell like vomit, which is how you smelled. Here, let's go." Spike took a few steps and Xander's feet dragged badly. "C'mon now, step lively. Left foot then right."

The two of them staggered wildly and sank to the ground. 

"Wait." Spike narrowed his eyes and looked at Xander. "Weren't there two of you before? At that place...you know, where we ate...the place with the alcohol...?" He waved his hand around in an attempt to remember.

"_Moxico?"_ Xander said helpfully from his spot in the grass. 

"Yes! That's the place. Nice place, that."

"You called it a 'hole'." 

"Did not!"

"Yes you did. And you're wearing my shirt."

Spike sat up and leaned over Xander. "Oh? Am I? Do you want it back then?"

"Uh..." Xander looked up at him, feeling funny. Did he want it back? That would mean Spike would have no shirt on. "Won't you get cold?"

"No," Spike said, a small grin on his face. "Vampire, remember?"

"Right." Xander wriggled a bit, trying not to make it look like he was sneaking closer. Wait. What the hell was he doing? This was Spike. And they were in the grassy area beside the local Mexican restaurant. And they were really really drunk. And he, Xander, was not gay. Gay was Willow's area. And...this was Spike. And he smelled kinda good..."Spike?"

"Yeah?" Spike looked down at him, mouth close. 

"I have to pee."

Spike drew back. "Again?"

"Well, yes." Xander rolled over and fought to get to his feet. "Don't you have to go? I mean, you drank almost as much as me..." Spike smirked and held up the bottle in his hand. "Okay, well, more than me. It's a mystery of the ages. '_Do Vampires Pee_?'"

"Yeah, it's a question that keeps people up at night, I'm sure." Spike pushed Xander off towards a clump of trees. "Go. Answer the call of nature and all that." Xander shuffled away.

Spike sipped quietly as he waited. And waited. And...waited. "Uh...Harris?" 

No answer.

What if he was in trouble? Spike frowned and broke into an unsteady run, dropping the tequila bottle as he ran. "Xander!"

He found him sprawled in the grass under the trees, mouth slack as he rolled him over. "Hey, Harris." He ran his hands over him. No cuts, no bites. No blood. Wait a sec...

Xander let out a snore.

"Great." Spike sighed and shook his head. "You've passed out. This will be an interesting walk home." He heaved Xander up in a fireman carry over his shoulder and almost fell back down. "You lightweight, look at you, being carried like a great girl." Spike stumbled heavily. "Whoops."

"S'not Monday. I dun have homework..." Xander mumbled against his back.


	3. Chapter three

DISCLAIMER: So, Buffy is over and I am in mourning. "Joss," I said. "Joss, is there a reason you didn't explain that whole thing in season 7?" and he's all, "What thing? This thing or that thing? Or that other thing over there?" and I'm all, "THAT thing. Duh." And he shrugs and says, "Joyce was just fucking with Dawn's mind. Ghosts get bored every now and again. Ok? Can we drop it now?" So I smacked him in the head and went grocery shopping. AND I didn't buy him those tasty fudgey brownies he likes so much. HA!

THANKS: Well, first off, thanks to the true geniuses behind this work. I'm talking about the brains behind the operation, Dr. Dawn and Sisabet. They have this entire thing in their head and they tell me what to put down. Really, I am but a glorified typer here. Damn them and their clever ways! Secondly, thanks for nothing, Joss. Stupid all ending our show...*grumble grumble* Thirdly, thanks for reading! And last, but not in the least bit least, a big thanks to Devil Piglet for being our beta. Thanks DP, you sassy young thing, you!

LAST TIME ON _THE ODD COUPLE, HELLMOUTH STYLE_: Spike's clothes were dirty so he put on an old pair of leather pants. Damn straight! Whoo! Xander mocked him and his ass. Spike declared he could bounce pennies of his ass. Xander grew listless and took Spike out for dinner. Spike likes deep-fried ice cream and tequila. Xander drank. Spike drank. The two wore sombreros. They drank some more. After they left the restaurant Xander lost his dinner in the bushes and decided that he didn't like tequila or his girl-drink-drunk drink. But he did decide that Spike smelled good. Xander got pretty woozy and Spike tried to drunkenly carry him home. Cause, the two of them drank. Lots. And so we continue!

************************************************************************

"You're a souuul maaaaaannn....duh duh duh duh duh duh....sooooooooouuuuuuuuul maaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnn...you're a-"

"Stop singing." Spike fumbled down the hall, bumping into the walls as he walked. Harris was not being very helpful, moving about and singing off-key as he tried to cart him to the apartment. And that stupid song was driving him crazy...crazier. "I hate that song."

Xander snorted, mouth pressed against his back. "Ok. Whatever you want. Ha ha! You have a soul!"

Spike twisted around, hands patting blindly. 

"Hey!" Xander wriggled as Spike's hands roamed. "What...stop it..." he giggled and pushed vainly. "Cut it out, that tickles! HEY!" Spike's hand was in a rather intimate spot.

"I need the keys." Spike jangled them in triumph. 

"Oh," Xander said, feeling a little disappointed. "I mean. Ah. I see."

Unlocking the door proved to be rather difficult, what with the squirming, laughing Xander flung over his shoulder and the fact that the keyhole kept jumping about every time he got the key near it. Spike squinted, tongue half out, concentrating. _Come on, dammit! _The key seemed huge compared to the lock. Xander shifted again and he nearly dropped it. Maybe that last bottle of tequila was a mistake. 

"Whatz the holdup?" Xander tried to push himself up, hands on Spike's ass as a lever. "Whatz goin' on? Oh! Hey! I know this place."

Spike sighed and jammed blindly at the handle, trying to ignore the fact that Xander's hands were not so much pushing against him but more squeezing experimentally. "Dammit Harris, can't you wait till we get inside?"

"Inside? Wait?" Xander let go, completely forgetting that he'd even touched. Yes, forgetting. He didn't want to touch Spike. Or boys. Or Spike. Nope. "Open the door! Why are we in the hall still?"

Eyes narrow, Spike peered over at Xander. "Because balancing you and trying to get the door open is so much fun that I never want it to end."

Apparently looking away was the secret, because suddenly the key slid in and the door was open. Thank God for small favors. Spike stumbled inside, making his way to the couch and only breaking two lamps on the way. 

"Here we are," he said loudly, leaning over. Xander slid, grabbing at his shirt as he went, sending Spike down with him. "Hey!"

They landed in a heap, tangled. "This is _my_ couch," Xander said fuzzily, pleased. "I like my couch. It's couch-erific!"

Spike rolled his eyes. "Yeah, the couch is great."

"The Soulinator thinks my couch is great! Go me!" Xander sat up, suddenly serious. "Do you know what you are?" he asked quietly, looking straight into Spike's eyes.

Spike swallowed, heart in throat. He didn't want Xander to say it. He knew what he was. "What?" he asked softly, face blank.

Xander peered at him gravely. "You're...Angel-_lite_. With half the fat!" He laughed hysterically, ignoring Spike's annoyed expression, face suddenly falling into Spike's lap.

Silence.

"Uh...Harris?" 

Pause.

"Harris." Spike poked him. "Xander!" He pushed a bit, revealing a peacefully sleeping Xander, happy smile on his face. Well now, this was interesting. 

Spike smiled a little himself, braving to touch Xander's hair, giving him little puppy-dog strokes, enjoying the contact. It had been so long since someone had touched him that is felt nice to hold someone, even if that someone was passed out. He pulled his hand away from Xander's hair and wiped it on his pants. The guy used a lot of hair product. And he kinda smelled like a wino still. 

Despite that, and the fact that Harris was in desperate need of a haircut, Spike found his leather pants were getting a little tight. Arousal in leather seemed to be somewhat uncomfortable. "No wonder the Poof wears them all the time," he mumbled, shifting in an attempt to get comfortable. "Even if he did manage to get a hard on, these things would punish him for his evil ways in no time." Xander frowned and clutched at his legs tightly, making Spike stop. Oh hell. Looked like he was spending the night.

************************************************************************

Xander rubbed his face. His pillow felt funny. Kinda smooth and not fluffy. And it had a manly scent to-wait.

He sat up slightly, ignoring the slight throbbing in his head, taking in the fact that he had just spent the night with Spike. With his head in his lap. Oh god! His head was in his lap all night long. 

Xander looked at the lap in question, taking in the shape. Not only did his face lay there, it laid on Spike's rather hard bulge. He rubbed at his cheek, feeling creases. Gah! Spike creases! Creases of Spike! He had vampire erection creases!

Said vampire was resting peacefully, looking like he didn't have a care in the world. Xander sat up more, and his eyes opened immediately, looking straight at him. Ok, that was creepy. Time to play it cool. Brush this off as no big deal.

"Uh..." Xander said stupidly, trying not to look in the direction of The Bulge. "Uh...whu...ah..."

"Well said." Spike tilted his head, not looking one bit self-conscious. "Sleep well?"

Xander blinked. "Well?" he repeated, trying to think of something clever to say. Standing up, he said, "I'm going to take a shower." Spike looked intrigued and he was so _not_ blushing. No, no blushing here. He resisted the urge to add, _alone_.

"You do that," Spike said dryly. He put his arms up, sighing, and suddenly paused in mid-stretch. "Ow."

Xander turned around. "Ow?"

Spike picked at the front of his pants, a pained expression on his face. "Yes ow. These pants chafe. And since I was stuck on the couch all night long I was stuck wearing them." 

Xander pointed and laughed. "Chafed! Hahaha! You're chafed! Didn't hanging around with Angel teach you anything??"

Spike made a face at the mention of The Poof. 

"Wait," Xander turned his head slightly, intrigued. "Was that a disturbed sexual remembering kind of face?"

Spike glowered. "_No_! Why does everyone keep thinking I'd do it with Peaches??"

He shuffled around uncomfortably, still plucking at the front of his waistband. "You're gonna have to help me with them," he said, trying to steer the conversation back to something more fun.

"Help?" Xander took a step back, face panicked. "Help? I uh, I have to get in the shower. Because I need to get to work. Yes, work. Can't 'help' you with your pants. That's crazy." He waved his arms around, ignoring the curious part of his brain that was wondering what Spike looked like under those leather pants. _Shut up. You are not gay. You like women. Think about women. Naked women. Naked women with naked Spike...dammit!_

"Stop being such a nancyboy, Harris." Spike grinned, enjoying screwing with him. As if he actually needed help taking his pants off. His vampire healing had him healing already. "Look, be reasonable. It's your fault I'm chafed. If you hadn't drank so much-"

Xander made a loud noise. "_You_'re the one who bought the second bottle of tequila, and with _my_ money!"

"-and then made me carry you all the way home, " Spike kept going, ignoring his outburst. "And then passed out on me I could have gone into my cozy little dungeon of a room and slept in the buff like I always do. Instead I was forced to sleep in the leather. Now, stop being such a baby and help me get these off, will you?" He gave a little nod. "Besides, it's Saturday. No _work_ today." 

Spike put just enough of a tilt to the word 'work' that Xander became suspicious. "You'd better not be screwing with me," he said, immediately regretting his choice of words. 

"Wouldn't think of it," Spike said, hiding his smile. He motioned to his button. "Now, a little help?"

"Fine. I can help you with your pants to prove my hetero-ness. Hold on." Xander disappeared into the bathroom, coming out with a bottle of baby powder. "This will help get the pants off."

"I'm not putting that on me!" Spike protested. "That's for females and little ones!"

"Do you want my help or not?" 

Spike shut up, watching as Xander carefully reached over to his waistband, his fingers avoiding contact with his skin as much as possible. He pulled the pants slightly and shook some powder inside, eyes flicking between the smooth exposed belly and the floor. The powder trailed down. It tickled. 

Xander's fingers fumbled at his button like it was his first time unhooking a bra, hands shaking slightly. Spike watched as he struggled, finally placing his own hands over Xander's, slowing guiding him through the button and zipper. 

Xander flushed nervously as he started to pull the pants down. More and more of Spike's belly was being exposed and he was growing more and more nervous. The fact that Spike was still hard wasn't helping matters. Not to mention that his own pants seemed to be getting a little snug themselves. Panicking, he moved behind Spike, hands sliding out from under his and around to Spike's back.

"What're you doing?" Spike asked softly, turning a bit to look at him, eyes sleepy.

"Uh..." Xander swallowed. "I think it'll be easier to get them off if I'm tugging at the back, " he lied, palms sweaty from touching. He wiped them on his shirt. "So, here I go. With the tugging."

The pants slid down rather easily, but Xander was too distracted by the sight of Spike's ass to notice. Commando, he thought. _Why am I not surprised?_

"Told you it was firm enough to bounce a quarter."

Startled, Xander looked up to see Spike smirking at him. Not breaking eye contact, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a quarter. "Will this do?" 

Spike made his eyes go wide, challenging him. "I dare you."

"You dare me?" Xander asked, smiling.

Spike shrugged, not actually expecting him to toss it at him. As if he'd do it. As if Harris-

The quarter bounced off his ass and landed on the end table with a rattle. 

Xander laughed, enjoying the surprised look on Spike's face. Their eyes met again and suddenly Xander realized that he was having fun with a half-dressed vampire. Who was male. "I've gotta go, " he blurted, moving around Spike and to the door.

"Where?" Spike asked, pants still down around his thighs.

"It's Saturday. I'm a man. Men wash their cars on Saturday. I have to do that." He paused at the door, flustered. "And possibly mow Buffy's lawn. And fix a broken window."

The door slammed, leaving Spike standing there, the smell of baby powder everywhere. 

************************************************************************

The car sparkled, every speck of dirt washed, rinsed and repeated. Xander wiped at it, feeling better. Manly men washed their cars. And possibly changed the oil. He'd never changed oil, but, as a manly man himself, he assumed he could. Because he was all man. 

Grabbing the Turtle Wax from his trunk, he began to rub it on furiously. Clear the mind Xander. Wax on. Wax off. Wax on. Wax off. Yes Mr. Miyagi, that's right. I'm waxing. I'm one with the wax. 

_I wonder if Spike waxes_. Xander slowed his rubbing, pondering. His butt was rather smooth. And firm. That quarter bounced off it like a kid on a trampoline. _I wonder if he does lunges. _

A picture of a naked Spike doing lunges in his living room suddenly popped into his head. _"Bloody hell! These lunges really firm up my firm, smooth ass! I must tell Harris all about it!"_

"Gah!" Xander began waxing feverishly. "That never happened. I so did not imagine that." 

He polished madly, sweat running into his eyes. _Wax on! Wax off!_


	4. Chapter four

DISCLAIMER: The other night I was rummaging through Joss' personal effects when I hear the front door open and people come in. I freeze, then make a mad dash for the nearest hiding spot. So, there I am, trapped in Joss' closet, holding onto his GAP sweats and doing a little sweating myself, when I happen to actually _look_ at the back of the door and find that Joss has hung a huge, blown-up picture of myself on it. Not only that, but there were like, all these little red hearts drawn over my chest, and the words '_Mr. and Mrs. mr. monkeybottoms_' written all over the thing in girly writing. I dropped the sweats and ran for it. 

THANKS: Thanks for reading! Thanks, as always, to sisabet and dr. dawn for the great plots. Thanks to Devil Piglet, the sweet sweet beta. And NO thanks go out to my internet provider, who did NOT provide internet, and then made me wait on hold for 20 minutes, only to tell me to reboot my computer. So, of course I did, and of course it starts working, despite the fact that I rebooted three times already, and of course now the guy from the Help department thinks I'm an idiot who doesn't think to reboot. Jackasses.

SUMMARY: When we last saw our heroes...let's see. Xander and Spike drank. Xander passed out on Spike's groin. Spike let him and then pretended to be chafed the next morning so Xander would help him take off his pants. Xander panicked and waxed the car.

************************************************************************

"Are you _still_ sleeping? Get up, lazybones. It's time to patrol."

Spike opened one eye. Harris was silhouetted in his bedroom doorway, the light from the hall spilling inside. "Patrol? What about the Slayer? Does she actually slay anymore or just look sad all the time?" He sat up onto the side of the bed and rubbed at his hair groggily.

"We're all doing our part," Xander said. "You know, First Evil and all that. Remember? The thing that made you crazy in the basement?"

Spike narrowed his eyes at him.

"Anyways, Buffy just called and asked us to patrol the east side," Xander continued, ignoring the glaring. "Here."

Something soft was tossed at Spike's head. "What's this, then?" Spike held the fabric up and groaned. 

"It's for you," Xander said.

"No. Forget it."

"You have a better idea?" Xander asked, arms crossed. 

"Yes! I'll wear my leather, thank you very much."

Xander crossed his arms. "What about the chafing?"

Spike paused. "Ah yes. The chafing." He dropped the leather pants back onto the floor. "Harris, seriously. You can't expect me to wear these! I have an image to uphold!"

Xander shrugged. "They're all I have that would fit you."

Spike stared at it. "No self-respecting vampire would be caught dead wearing these...these..."

"Plaid jammie bottoms?" Xander supplied helpfully. "Just put them on and hurry up. It's already ten o'clock."

"Oh, sorry. I wasn't the one who had a peaceful sleep on someone else's member last night," Spike muttered but Xander had already left the room. Spike held the pajama bottoms in one hand like a dead animal and made a face. "Bugger this."

When Spike walked out of the bedroom a few minutes later, Xander kept his face perfectly blank...for about three seconds.

"Shut it," Spike snarled. He grabbed his duster out of Xander's hands and shrugged it on with a flourish. "Not one word out of you or I'll-"

"You'll what?" Xander grinned. "Have a sleepover party and not invite me?"

Spike ignored him and marched out of the apartment. He then ignored him for the next twenty minutes while the prat rattled on and on about his pants, his hair colour, and the fact that Spike still, somehow, smelled very strongly of baby powder. 

That was the last straw. He whirled on him.

"Harris! Would you bloody shut your bloody mouth?" Spike snapped.

Xander tried to look contrite. "Sorry, Spike...I...uh...I" His face twisted. "I'm sorry, I just...can't...I can't _not_ find this funny!" He burst into laughter.

"That's it." Spike ripped the cotton bottoms off, revealing his leather pants underneath. 

"Hey!" Xander pointed, mouth open. "What the!"

Spike just looked at him.

"You! You're not chafed!" Xander accused.

"Oh, but I am." Spike took a few steps and winced. "See?" He walked ahead gingerly, legs spread out slightly like a cowboy. "Ooooh dear, the leather really rubs up against the raw areas." He waved his hands towards his groin dramatically. 

Xander tried not to stare at said areas.

Spike smiled. The tables had turned. "My poor bits are still tender," he complained, plucking and gesturing. "Ow!"

Xander looked directly into the nearest patch of bushes. "Why didn't you wear the sweats then?" he demanded, concentrating on some very nice looking leaves. Pretty leaves. Not a hint of leather in the bunch. "And? You ripped Anya's favorite pair of sweats."

"You gave me the Shopgirl's pants?" Spike demanded.

Xander shrugged. "Well, it's all that I had in your size."

Spike glared. "I am _not_ the same size as your Ex." He stormed off, forgetting to limp, and disappeared in the darkness.

"Spike..." Xander blindly followed him into the woods, stumbling over roots and fallen branches. "Hey, come on...I can't see like you can. Wait up! Spike...don't be such a baby...uh...Spike? It's very dark out here..."

"Shhh." Spike hissed in his ear, making him jump in surprise. "Look."

"Where?" Xander whispered, blinking uselessly in the dark. Spike took his head and turned it to the left, revealing a light blinking through the trees. "What is it?"

"Fire," Spike said softly. "And trouble."

Xander squinted, trying to see more. "Trouble is what we do best. We'll, it's what Buffy does best. I tag along for the ride."

"Come on," Spike hissed, pulling Xander's shoulder. 

Xander grabbed a handful of duster and followed, trying not to fall flat on his face as they snuck closer. The sounds of fighting could be heard now, yelling and running and snarling. Ah yes, a sound he knew all too well. 

Spike pulled the bushes apart to reveal a campfire. There was screaming and crying, legs and arms flailing, fangs flashing in the reflection of the flames as the teen boys struggled to escape from the monsters that had invaded their fun.

. "How many?" Xander gasped.

Spike's eyes flicked over the scene. "Five." He pressed a stake into Xander's hands. "We can take them." Spike looked at him, face sliding into bumps and ridges, mirroring the vamps they were about to kill. "We have to save the children," Spike said, voice slightly strained. 

"Uh. Okay." Xander tightened his grip on the wood, hand sweaty. "Let's go be heroes then."

They burst out of the woods, catching the vamps completely by surprise. Xander dusted one before the vamp even knew they were there, its mouth hanging open in shock as it poofed away forever. The kid it'd been drinking slid to the dirt, stunned, a hand to his bloody neck.

"Wha-" he said, dazed, gazing at Xander in an almost reverent way. "Are you a superhero?"

Xander had already turned away to help Spike, but froze at the kid's words. "Superhero?" he said, grinning. "Well, not in the truest sense. But I do fight evil nightly. Why, just the other week I was in a huge argument with a vampire over what channel we were gonna watch on Must See T-"

"Harris!"

Spike's shout broke him out of his speech and he whipped around in time to see the tree branch being swung at him. He ducked and tackled the vamp, his momentum causing his to stake slip thorough its ribs and into it's heart, dusting it before they even hit the ground.

"Wow!" the kids said, still clutching at his neck. "You _are_ a hero!"

Xander grinned and spun his stake jauntily. Well, he tried to, but it turned a half turn and then clattered to the ground. "Oops."

"A little help!" Spike yelled, struggling with the remaining two, the ashes of another floating around him. 

"Coming!" Xander joined in, grabbing at the one holding Spike. Its grip loosened and Spike raised his arms and spun, twisting its head off as he went. Snarling, the last two let go of their humans who promptly ran for it in terror, and rounded on them, furious.

"Who are you?" the bigger one demanded, seeing Spike's gameface. "You're supposed to be one of us!"

"Yeah!" The other chimed in, upset at his dinner being interrupted.

"Oh please. Don't tell me you've never heard of me." Spike scoffed. 

The two vamps waited stupidly.

Spike swept a hand over his outfit. "Leather coat? Bleached hair? Charming good looks?"

They blinked. 

"Uh..." Bigger said, unsure. "Uh...Angel?"

"OH!" Spike reeled back as if he'd been struck. "Angel? _Angel! _Are you _mad? _Angel has perfectly stupid hair! Plus he mopes all the time and wears leather pants!"

"_You're_ wearing leather pants," the smaller vampire pointed out. "See?"

Smaller nodded. "You are, you know."

"Maybe you should have stuck with the jammies," Xander suggested, getting a glare for his efforts. "Okay, just sayin'."

"These are only a temporary problem and hey! Why don't the two of you shut up!" Spike said, furious.

"_You're _the one who asked _us_," Bigger said, offended.

"Yeah and....hey...do you smell...baby?" Smaller asked, sniffing carefully.

"I love babies!" Bigger said excitedly. "So moist and plump and rich!" The two inhaled deeply, eyes closed, leaning in towards Spike as they breathed.

"This is so disturbing," Xander said.

Bigger's eyes opened, glowing evilly. "It's coming from you, Angel. Why do you smell like a baby? Are you hiding them on us?"

Smaller took a step closer, teeth gleaming as his grinned. "Yeah Angel, share. We're the same, the three of us." He shot a glace towards Xander who watched in a combination of amusement and horror. "And when we've finished the babies we'll eat your pal there. He looks easy enough to kill."

Three sets of yellow eyes slid over to Xander.

"Hey! Am not!" He raised his stake higher.

"Come on Angel, let's-" Bigger ran for it, escaping into the night, and flushing out another vamp who'd been hiding in the long grasses. It leapt up and followed him, running for it's life.

"What!" Smaller said, right before he dusted.

"Right then." Spike stepped away, brushing at his duster. "That's what you get for calling me _Angel_." 

"And threatening me." Xander pointed out.

"Yeah. That too." Spike shrugged.

Xander walked over to the teenager who was still sprawled on the ground, holding his wounded neck. "It's okay now, they're gone. Come on, I'll help you up." He held his hand out but the kid shied away, terrified. "Hey, don't worry, they're gone. And mostly dead."

The kid raised a trembling hand and pointed to Spike, who was still all bumpy and staring into the fire, muttering '_Stupid Angel_'. "He's one of them."

Xander turned. "Who him? No no, he's okay. He's as harmless as a kitten in a tree. Why, he couldn't hurt us if he tried. He couldn't bite us or snap our necks or even chop us into little bits of...wait! Where are you going!" The kid ran off through the woods. "He only kills evil things!" he shouted after him.

"Give it up Harris." Spike said. "There's more important things to be taken care of here." 

"Oh yeah?" Xander came over and Spike opened the abandoned cooler. "Ooooh! Beer!"

Spike grabbed the bunch by the plastic rings and held up a bottle of amber liquid. "And a little something special."

"What is it?" Xander asked.

"_Early Times_." Spike informed him. "The cheapest bourbon around."

The two looked at each other and shrugged, plopping themselves down on top of the cooler and each popping a tallboy. They drank in comfortable silence, arms and legs touching, watching the fire snap and jump as they thought. 

"Let's shoutgun," Xander said. 

"Shotgun..." Spike shot him a look. "All right," he said, picking up two fresh ones when they'd finished their first beers. He pulled a switchblade out of nowhere and flicked it open, stabbing a hole in the bottoms of each can. "No spilling."

"No fair!" Xander said, taking his can and holding it to his mouth, ready to pop the top. "You don't have to breathe! But I'll still beat you, I'm a champion shotgunner."

"Wrong. I'm the champ. Dru taught me. Said the ghost of Janis Joplin showed her how to do it. She was a strange girl, my Dru." Spike held his beer up. "On the count of three. One...two...three!"

They opened their beers and drank madly, draining the cans in seconds. Xander let out a large belch, looking confused when Spike didn't.

"Don't breathe, remember? Means I don't burp."

"Mmm. Very refined," Xander said, stifling a hiccup. "Hey! Marshmallows!" He tore open the bag sitting beside the cooler and tossed one in his mouth. "Wan' wan?" he mumbled around the marshmallow, mouth full and sticky. Spike leaned away.

"No. Hate the things. So puffy and sugary. They remind me of The Poof." Spike took a deep drink of the bourbon, finishing off half of it.

Xander swallowed, looking around the cooler. "You really have issues with the guy," he said, picking up a stake and looking at it, thinking hard. "Do you think this would work for roasting?"

Spike grabbed the stake. "Yeah. That would be a great idea. Burn our weapons." He tucked it away safely into his duster. "And I do not have issues. You have issues."

"Me?" Xander looked up, clutching the branch he'd found sitting right beside them, three marshmallows already pushed on in a row. "Issues? What issues? I'm issue-free. Anti-issue. Issue-less is what I am."

Spike scoffed. "Right. That's why you left your bird at the altar."

"Hey!" Xander pulled his stick away from the fire, marshmallows aflame. "That was..." 

Spike looked at him.

"That was...that was a really terrible thing for me to do. But I had to do it, because as much as it hurts now, it would hurt a lot more ten years from now when we hated each other." He blew on his charred marshmallows, forlorn.

"Here." Spike passed him the bottle and he took it, drinking deeply. "I thought you two would make it, actually. She's a nice enough gal, very classy, and.." he trailed off, suddenly realizing that Xander might not appreciate his thoughts on Anya, what with the whole having sex with her and it being watched live and so forth. He drank the rest of his beer quickly in an attempt to stall for time, noticing Xander was doing the same. _Think. Think! Change the subject, dammit! _"Uh..." He grabbed a few more beers. "Another round?"

"More shotgunning?" Xander asked. "Are you trying to get me drunk again, vampire?"

"Trying? Please, you are such a prancing lightweight. You're already drunk."

Xander did his best to look offended. "No..._you're_ already drunk. I told you your soul makes you drunker faster."

Spike stabbed the two cans viciously. "Here. Drink, monkeyboy. Then we'll see who's the drunk one." He drained his quickly, ignoring how his head spun when he was done. Stupid Xander. The soul didn't make him drunk. Why, in his day he could drink a case of the best bourbon and then follow that up with a few party-goers...oh god...how _awful _of him...

Xander's eyes narrowed. "Did you just wipe a tear away?" he asked suspiciously.

Spike ducked his head. "What! No!" Stupid soul.

Xander stared at him. "How do you feel?"

Spike froze, not knowing what to say. 

Xander looked at Spike's pants. "I mean, hey, Soulicious, how does your crotch feel?" he slurred a little, grinning.

Spike smirked and tilted his head. "Soulicious?" he said slowly, eyes warm.

"I meant the chafing!" Xander said, suddenly flustered. He jumped up, noticing for the first time how close they'd been sitting, how their bodies were touching, how it hadn't even occurred to him to feel uncomfortable sitting so close to Spike. He grabbed at the bottle of Early Times and chugged.

"Of course you meant the _chafing_." Spike kicked off his boots and stood up, hands on his belt. "Well now, let's see..." he said, pulling his leather pants off and tossing them to the side with a shrug.

Xander choked, sending cheap bourbon all over the place, eyes boggling at the naked Spike in front of him. _What's with the no underwear. And...no pants. He's always taking the pants off. Okay, so maybe I helped him last time but seriously. It's like national Unpants Day. I should get paid time and a half._

Spike cupped himself thoughtfully. "No. Nothing wrong here. All healed up." He stroked slowly, making Xander gasp.

"Sweet Muscular Jesus!" Xander took another swig and almost lost his balance.

"Nooo, Spike. But you can call me 'Sweet Muscular William' if you like," Spike answered, eyes sleepy. Xander stared, unable to look away from his hands and the touching.

"Hey!" Spike slurred loudly, making Xander jump in surprise. "Look." He turned and ran towards the fire and jumped over it effortlessly, landing unscathed on the other side.

Xander doubled over, laughing. "You stupid-!" He fell to the ground, breathless from lack of air. "Dumbass! You're flammable! You stupid retarded vampire!"

Spike grinned.

"You can die, dummy!" Xander wiped at his eyes, still laughing.

"Yeah. But it's fun." Spike edged around the fire. "Flames licking your arse. They want your willie, but they can't if you're quick..." he jumped over again, still naked from the waist up.

"Can't...breathe..." Xander gasped, holding his sides. "Spike, you moron!"

"Try it," Spike said, doing it again. "It's fun."

Xander sat up. "Hell no! There's no way I'm exposing the Harris legacy to an open flame!"

Spike gave him an impatient look.

"No!" Xander said, firmly. 

Spike raised his eyebrows, mocking. 

"No!" 

"I dare you."

"Nope. I like the boys right here where they belong."

Spike stepped close. "I double dog dare you." 

Xander's eyes narrowed. "Fine," he said. Drinking the last of the bourbon he tossed the bottle aside. "Get ready." He pulled his pants down and tossed them over with the bottle. 

Spike crossed his arms and waited, watching Xander fiddled with the front of his underwear nervously.

Xander swallowed. "Uh...can I uh...use a sock? For modesty's sake."

Spike scoffed.

Xander sighed and tugged at his boxers, pulling them off and tossing them with the rest. The two stood there, pantless, bottomless, and shoeless, staring at each other challengingly.

Spike looked towards the fire and then back at Xander, one eyebrow cocked. 

"Alright then." Xander took a step back, readying himself. "Here I go." He ran towards the fire.

That's when the vampires attacked.


End file.
